


asymptote

by walking_through_autumn



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Amoneki Week 2016, Canon Related, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2016-01-04
Packaged: 2018-05-11 09:49:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5623030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/walking_through_autumn/pseuds/walking_through_autumn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The chance - and not so chance - encounters between an investigator and a half-ghoul, after the crumbling buildings filled with the smell of blood and dust have been left to rot by the sea.</p><p>It begins with a coin. </p><p>Written for Amoneki Week 2016.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Connection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amon, Kaneki, a shrine, and a five- _yen_ coin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Day 1: New Year's Festival**

It took three days into the new year before Hinami was able to convince Kaneki to get out of the house.

“You can’t stay here forever,” Hinami had insisted. She looked like she was on the verge of locking the door to the basement and hiding the key, and Banjou, standing next to her and looking equally concerned, would probably help her. Kaneki supposed he could pick the lock and go back downstairs to train, but he didn’t want to risk Hinami crying. So he smiled, allowed Hinami to wrap a scarf around his neck, politely rejected when they asked if he would prefer their company, then stood outside the house for five minutes at a loss of what to do.

He thought that perhaps he could go information gathering, but considering he had entrusted the job to Tsukiyama, there was nothing much he could do until Tsukiyama came back with information on Rize. His sigh came out as a small cloud of condensation. The empty street replied to his sigh with silence.

Turning right, he started walking out of the maze of small streets until he reached the main shopping street that led to the subway. Two long rows of store shutters greeted him – almost nothing would be opened until the next day. Even the convenience stores seemed desolate, with the lone unlucky employee standing at the counter counting down the minutes. For just these few days, it almost felt like the world had stopped functioning. There was a stillness that was unnatural to Tokyo, a stillness that reminded Kaneki of the dome and the seconds ticking by until the door opened again.

He shuddered and squeezed his eyes shut. But that meant darkness and images playing out on his lids like film reels stuck on loop. Opening his eyes again, he scanned the streets, and his shoulders relaxed slightly when he saw a few people heading into the subway.

 _Probably visiting shrines_ , he thought vaguely, and he followed them into the subway.

The roar of the train approaching and the station master’s monotonous reminder – _The train is approaching; stay behind the yellow line, please_ – helped drown out the dull _snick_ of pliers through flesh and bone. Surrounded by people on the train, he could even imagine that he was one of them, looking forward to the new year and new beginnings. Though he supposed he did have his own new beginning and journey, far more dangerous than what the other people on the train would go through, and far more like the characters in books he had read and loved as a child.

 _A way to be remembered_ , he thought. If he was lucky, maybe he would be remembered the way Franz Kafka is famous and remembered now.

The train doors opened and a group of ladies in brightly coloured _kimono_ s standing near him alighted. Kaneki took in a breath of the heated, stuffy air, then he followed them and most of the other passengers off the train, a white head of hair joining a large mass of black and dyed brown heading out of the station and into the crisp winter air and grounds of Ward 13.

Looking at the number of people walking towards the large brown _torii_ gate, gravel crunching under their shoes, Kaneki wondered if the ghouls in this ward would see the New Year as a chance to feast, or a time for truce and pretence at peace.

He wondered if ghouls celebrated festivals like humans did.

The feel of gravel under his shoes grounded him and brought him back to the present. He focused on the last of the autumn leaves scattered along the wide path and the murmurs of the people around him. Despite the number of people there was a certain serenity in the green leaves and the vastness of the shrine grounds, and it made him feel like, perhaps, he too could try to celebrate the new year. Each step forward brought him closer to the next _torii_ gate, and by the time he reached the huge shrine just behind it, he could nearly imagine he was a high school student again, about to pray for the gods to aid him in his university entrance examinations. His lips twitched when he recalled how both he and Hide had tossed in their coins and earnestly written their hopes on small wooden boards. He had a feeling he was going to pray for something very different this year.

Crossing through the people milling around and taking photographs of the grand shrine, Kaneki waited until there was a small gap among the people in front of the offering area, just in between a tall man and a mother praying with her young son. He slipped into the gap and took out his coin pouch to pull out a five- _yen_ coin.

Almost immediately, he frowned. There were shiny silver hundred- _yen_ coins and dull bronze ten- _yen_ coins…and not a five- _yen_ coin in sight. He rummaged through the pouch to check again, but there were no gold coins hiding among the other coins.

He let out a very quiet sigh. He could toss in a ten- _yen_ coin, but it would not be the same.

“Excuse me.”

He must be standing in somebody’s way. He lifted his head, about to apologize; the apology froze on his lips.

The tall man beside him – the _investigator_ – with serious dark brown eyes was holding out a five- _yen_ coin in his direction.

 _Run_ , an instinct in Kaneki screamed. The rational part of his mind forced him to remain calm. There was no recognition in the man’s eyes, only…growing discomfort as Kaneki continued to stare at him. The investigator looked very different in a warm winter coat and casual wear. But his eyes were the same as they had been on the cool November night and the night Kaneki walked away from the crumbling buildings.

Kaneki made his lips move. But instead of an apology, or a question, all he could manage was a weak “Ah?”

The man fidgeted and coughed. Then he said, “Um…I thought you might want this, because it seemed like you don’t have any.”

It took Kaneki a few seconds to register that “this” meant the five- _yen_ coin the man was holding out, and that the investigator was giving him the coin to pray with.

“…thank you, but I’m fairly sure the offering is supposed to come from myself for the prayer to work,” Kaneki said, keeping his tone polite and neutral.

“Ah,” the man said, and he lowered his hand. “That’s true.”

He sounded so different, Kaneki thought. Awkward, and like he didn’t quite know how to talk to people outside of his job. Or maybe that was because the first time Kaneki heard his voice, it had been raised in anger and choked with tears, and the second time it had been quietly questioning, a voice that had been nearly carried away on the night air and that had only just reached Kaneki’s ears. Maybe today was what he sounded like on a normal day.

Kaneki nodded, and he was about to thank the man for his kind offer and walk away, when the man pulled another five- _yen_ coin out of his wallet and said, “Could I exchange these for ten- _yen_ then?”

If he had less control over himself, he would have gaped. And if he had any sense, he would have just passed a ten- _yen_ coin to the man, taken the coins and thanked him, and maybe the man would have left. Instead, he heard himself saying, as though the words were coming from somebody else, “That’s very kind of you, but why are you doing this?”

The man looked startled. Kaneki felt surprised himself. It was not a question one asked strangers who were doing kind deeds. Except this man was technically no stranger, and for some reason, Kaneki did want to know if there was anything beyond kindness.

 _Would he have done the same if he knew I am the same ghoul he fought?_ Kaneki wondered.

It was a silly question that Kaneki knew the answer to.

The man rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand, seeming visibly uncomfortable. The people around them kept changing, different people coming forth to pray then leave to buy their amulet for the new year, giving way to others so they could pray. The man and Kaneki, at the edge of the offering area, were left undisturbed. Kaneki was about to tell the man to nevermind what he asked and exchange the coins, when the man said, “Because if you came here to pray, you should get the chance to do so.”

Kaneki smiled a little. So it really was out of pure kindness that this man was offering the exchange of coins. For the large part, he felt relieved.

He thought there might be some part of him that was disappointed by the lack of recognition. But it was a stupid, senseless disappointment.

“And…”

The man looked away from Kaneki to the front. Kaneki thought he was looking at the shrine; the small frown and the slightly distant look in the man’s eyes suggested something different. The man looked back at him and said, quietly, “You remind me of somebody that I know.”

His uncovered eye could see that the man was remembering the same nights he was, blood and battle and their eyes meeting across a distance that might as well be as wide as the distance between Earth and its moon. Kaneki could feel a small tremor in him that was equal parts fear and anticipation.

He forced himself to chuckle and said, “That sounds like a pick-up line.”

The man seemed to jolt out of his thoughts and he flushed. “I – ! Of course it isn’t – ” he spluttered, the red on his cheeks becoming more pronounced.

Kaneki laughed more sincerely, then said, “I’m sorry, that was rude of me. I will take up your kind offer, thank you.”

The man calmed down, though the flush remained. “Here you go, then,” he said. He passed over the coins and accepted Kaneki’s ten- _yen_ coin in return. On his palm, Kaneki could feel the lingering warmth from the man’s skin on the five- _yen_ coins.

“I…”

Kaneki stopped there. The word had slipped out without his realisation. He wondered what it was he wanted to say. Wondered if perhaps he had wanted to confirm the investigator’s suspicion.

The man looked curious. Kaneki swallowed and said, “Happy New Year. And thank you once again.”

He thought he might have seen something that resembled disappointment in the man’s eyes. Before he could examine the man’s expression further, he nodded and said, “Happy New Year to you too. May what you pray for be granted.”

Kaneki did not look as the investigator stepped away, though his ears followed the sound of his footsteps until they could no longer be distinguished among the mass of people. He slipped one coin into his pocket and tossed the other into the offering box. Before this, he had come here having an idea of what to pray for, but now his mind was blank as he clapped his hands twice then closed his eyes.

 _Grant me a smooth journey,_ he thought, but immediately wiped it away. It was useless praying for something impossible. He momentarily considered praying for the safety of those around him, but most of them being ghouls made that prayer fairly useless as well.

Unbidden, that investigator came to mind again. His tears, his anger; the lack of hostility in his eyes the night Kaneki decided on this journey. His words – _the world is twisted_ – and the unexpected kindness on a sunny winter day – _may what you pray for be granted_.

 _Grant me the opportunity to speak with him again_ , he prayed. Then he bowed deeply.

At the house, after assuring them that he had a nice time out and retreating into his room, Kaneki took the other five- _yen_ coin out of his pocket. He turned it over and over between his fingers, catching the glint of sunlight on muted gold, then slipped it into an amulet he had bought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A five-yen coin, or 五円, is pronounced go-en. Because it shares the same pronunciation as ご縁 (fate, relationship, ties, connection), it is often used as the main offering coin at shrines.
> 
> Meiji Jingu is a well-known shrine in Tokyo, based in Shibuya Ward.


	2. a thing left over from before

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One night, two people, and two different parts of Tokyo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Day 2: Hangover**

Once again, upon waking up he was left with the memory of a masked boy in tears.

Amon sat up in bed, a small frown on his face. He had lost count of the number of times he dreamt about that night. Some nights he woke up with a shout caught in his throat, body rigid, until he realised he was staring at the ceiling and not the still body of his mentor. Those were the nights he desperately did push-ups until the sun rose and he could drown himself in work.

But even those nights were better than the nights he dreamt of a boy who cried and pleaded with him. Those nights, even working his body to the point of exhaustion did not help the image fade from his mind. Closing his eyes again, he could only see the red and black eye imprinted on his lids. Hear the boy’s pleading voice – _please don’t make me a murderer_. Smell the blood – _his own blood_ – that was smeared on the boy’s lips.

Amon shook his head and breathed deeply, then got out of bed and headed to the kitchen for a drink of water. It helped clear his mind a little, though that brought forth the thought – for the hundredth, thousandth, millionth time – _why did the ghoul say that_? Months from the night they fought and Amon still could not find an answer. Seeing him at Ward 11 – _feeling_ the way the air around the boy had changed into something strangely sorrowful and determined – did not help clear up matters.

_Ward 11_ , Amon thought with grim determination. There was still the matter of the escaped ghouls from Cochlea to contend with. He knew he should concentrate on that first and on helping the Special Class investigators to the best of his ability; considering the lack of leads on the Binge Eater, Rabbit, and the eye-patched ghoul, there was no point in focusing on a case that would lead him nowhere without further clues.

His mind knew this.

It did not stop the dreams from occurring, again and again and again, like an old film reel stuck on loop, until everything was burnt into his memory.

He tried to find something else to do. There were still hours until the sun rose…he could go for a jog, with the hope that the sharp chilly air would help him this cloud of questions dissipate, if only briefly. After that he could drop in on a new pancake shop for breakfast, then prepare for work. The morning course thus decided, he washed up and changed, then grabbed his wallet.

The jangle of coins made him pause. It reminded him –

“I wonder how that boy is doing,” Amon muttered, even though there was nobody to hear him. The boy had sounded…like the ghoul Amon had fought, though with a distinct lack of choked tearfulness. For a long moment, he had even wondered whether the boy could be the one he was searching for. He had the same head of shocking white hair, the same sorrow in his visible eye.

But it might have been too much to ask, to a stranger he had only just met at a shrine. And any teenager these days could have been into the bleached hairstyle. The eye-patch was…on the wrong side, too.

Nonetheless, the memory brought a small smile to Amon’s lips. He hoped, whatever the boy had wanted to pray for, that it was fulfilled.

He slipped the wallet into his pocket and opened the door to the cold winter night.

.

He woke up with his limbs locked.

It took several minutes of deep breathing before his room came into focus: first, the ceiling, so new and smooth he could hardly bear to look at it too long; then, the feeling of a thick comforter resting on top of him, trapping in the warmth and pressing down against his chest like a phantom hand; he noticed, too, the ticking of a clock, almost too soft to be heard. He turned his head to read the spines of the books on the table next to his bed, whispering the titles just to hear his own voice doing something that was not screaming. Then he added details to them – this one he would recommend to Hinami, that one he did not like, another one that Banjou would like after he progresses more in his learning – until he was almost convinced he was no longer in his nightmare.

The air in his room was getting oppressive and stuffy. He wrenched the blankets away from him and quietly padded over to the window, pushing it open and welcoming the sting of winter air on his face. Soon, the plum blossoms would bloom, and they would move into the warmer seasons.

Once, it would have meant a new school year for him. Kaneki smiled at the thought and went back to his bed, sitting on the edge. The dream was fading away, a dream that had been drenched in red and a nauseating checkered white-and-black. He switched on the lamp and picked up the book he had been in the middle of, but found, after trying to read a page, that the words were as good as scrambled alphabet soup to him.

He sighed, then his eyes caught on the small, cloth bound amulet beside the stack of books.

Kaneki put the book down and picked up the amulet, clenching it tightly in his hand. If he pressed hard enough, he could feel the shape of the coin through the cloth. It helped him to focus, and this time, he began murmuring, “Make coffee. Train. Get information from Tsukiyama. Go hunting. Help Banjou train. Help Hinami with her book…sleep.”

It was the last thing he dreaded most. He wanted to throw himself into the day’s work, wanted to fill the house with the scent of coffee and hear Hinami greeting him with her cheerful voice. But it was still too early, and nobody would stir until the sky had lightened and the sun was peeking over the horizon. He pressed harder on the amulet and thought further, beyond the day ahead. In a low voice hard with resolve, he said, “Trace Rize’s path. Pluck the bad beans. Change…all that is twisted.”

He stopped there and lifted his head, looking back at the window and the small bit of sky he could see from there. It was terribly dark and forlorn, the stars barely visible in this city full of lights. Kaneki brought his legs up and hugged his knees, one hand still clutching onto the amulet. Thinking about his path beyond changing this world brought a blank that was as empty and endless as the night sky he was staring at.

He wished there was something he could stare at, wished there was a full moon that would remind him of what he had decided to do. Maybe he would feel calmer then. Less alone.

Rubbing the cloth of the amulet against his palm, he wondered what the man would think, if he knew that this was the path Kaneki had set himself for the new year. Would he still have offered those coins in exchange, then? Would the man who was trying to change the things that were twisted in the world have supported him?

It was all kinds of pathetic, Kaneki knew, that he was clinging on to something as tiny as a coin and the simple kindness behind it. He chuckled, low and humourless, and loosened his grip on the amulet. It made barely an imprint on his skin, when in the past there would be red lines on his palm from having held onto something so hard. The skin was hatefully smooth.

Resting his cheek against the top of his knees, Kaneki began muttering to himself again, flipping the amulet over and over between his fingers while he waited for the sun to rise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [hangover](http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/hangover) [ _hang_ -oh-ver]
> 
> "1894, "a survival, a thing left over from before," from hang (v.) + over. Meaning "after-effect of drinking too much" is first attested 1904, on notion of something left over from the night before."


End file.
